


Afternoon Delight

by ahimsabitches



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, No the Gigahorse is not involved in the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6900451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahimsabitches/pseuds/ahimsabitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry the joke in the title was terrible but I couldn't help it I'm already going to hell see you there!!!</p>
<p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BAIXUE! <3 Hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baixue88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baixue88/gifts).



> Please go read "Such Things" by Baixue88. Seriously if you have not read it yet GO. GO READ IT. This fic is set in that setting, before Mint's first pregnancy, when things are still relatively kind between her and Joe. She's been a good girl, so Joe decides to give her a present.
> 
> (Go read "Such Things". Now.)

The sun is a whitehot bullet hole in the sky, its shrapnel arrowing off the hood of the Gigahorse, off the polished shell of his chest plate. In pinprick-tiny flecks off Delight's hair.

The roar of the Gigahorse is strong and vital, and it fills him with power. His boils no longer prick him and his joints no longer feel filled with fiberglass. For now. He takes a deep breath, smelling nothing but the humid recycled air in his respirator but smelling the wild wide wastes anyway, stone and salt and bitter steel, the smell of the eternal earth, the smell of ruined home.

It would be in Delight's hair, on her skin and clothes, when they got back to the Citadel.

They won't be out long; they can't. There's only this small oxygen tank left, no bigger than Delight's forearm, and it's not enough. The big black mask absolutely swallows the bottom half of her face up; she keeps pulling it down to see over the lip.

"Stop fidgeting with your mask, my Delight," he says. "You need to keep it on."

His wife is beautiful despite the black monstrosity strapped to her head, spouting a ribbed tube that snakes down to the tank strapped to the seat at her feet. The curly mass of her hair fans back from her forehead and temples in ripples that remind him of choppy water, unsettled and waiting, waiting for the storm to whip it into a frenzy of foam.

"I can't breathe. I can't see. I don't know how you wear yours all the time. Are we there yet?" Delight stretches the tube to its limit as she turns to press her face into the wind sheeting past the open window.

Joe smiles indulgently and eases off the accelerator. Realizing that they and the oxygen tank are all strapped in, the grin grows horns beneath the deathscream of his mask and he does four things at once: rips the wheel to the right, jams the brake with one foot, the clutch with the other, and slams the deathshead gearshift down one gear.

The Gigahorse screams and yaws mightily to the side, kicking up an arc of sand, and Delight yips in surprise, thrown back against the seat. The great steel beast dips its doublenose as if in supplication to the sand as it stops, then rocks back, taking Joe and Delight with it.

Delight's eyes are huge and shining over the gas mask; then she laughs. It's muffled and tinny but crystalline with real delight, and Joe is unbuckled and across the seat to her before she's done.

"We have to be quick," he says to the softness of her neck, unbuckling her with one hand and fondling her tit with the other. "That tank's only good for a little while. It's a risk bringing you out here, my Delight. I have to keep you safe."

He wants to see the sun on the sea of her hair; he wants to see her hips jut and her tits sway and her feet print a rhythmic tattoo on the hood of the Gigahorse. Oh, he wants to see her head tipped back against the Gigahorse's nose, eyes fluttered closed with need for him. But she must stay masked; she must say pure and healthy.

Delight's eyes torch him over the curve of the mask. "I know you'll keep me safe, Daddy. I love you."

Their masks collide with a little clink, and frustration slices through him. She must stay masked; she must stay safe. For his sake, and hers. And his son's.

"I love you, my Delight. Come to me."

He reaches down between her legs, unsnaps the buckles that keep the tank in place, and she slides down the seat and shoves her cunt in his face, opening her legs and moaning. Her wraps ruck up around her hips and he catches a breath of her cunt. It is sweet and ready, already _ready_.

He hums with pleasure, taking the boost to his ego happily. She follows the tank like a muzzled dog as he hauls it back across the seat toward him. "Come to me," he says again, but she doesn't need to be hold twice.

On her hands and knees she comes, soft brown skin and sea-choppy hair and the smooth cool slip of young flesh over old flesh. She places her hands on his carapaced shoulders and throws a leg over him, mounting him with the screaming skull wheel at her back.

"Wait," he says, and pauses her with half a leg over. He pulls his guns out of their holsters at his codpiece and lays them aside, safeties on.  Unwilling to leave the soft swell of her hip with both hands, he unbuckles his belt and codpiece with one hand. The codpiece slips between them and clunks to the floorboards. "Resume," he says, and she does, settling on him with a purr. The O2 tank lies on the seat mildly, its dull steel surface reflecting them in flat, unrecognizable distortion.

"Why did you wear all that if you were just going to take me out here?" she asks.

"One must always be prepared." He brushes his hand over her unblemished temple, over the strap and steel of the mask. He pauses, thinks. Makes a decision. His thumb slides under the mask to her lips and she takes it into her mouth eagerly. Her silkywarm tongue rolls over it and makes his cock twitch. She feels it; she smiles and he can see it in her eyes. She presses herself to him in lazily undulating curves of her body, in slow mock-fucking thrusts that grind against his cock, well on its way to hardness, and draw a quiet moan from him.

"Thank you for taking me out here, Daddy," she says, tangling her hands in his bonewhite hair.

"You're a good girl. You're a delight. My Delight." His hands are vises on her hips, pulling her toward him.

"I wish we could go outside. I wish you could fuck me on the hood of this beast. I want that very _badly_ , Daddy."

He groans again, louder this time, and his head falls back against the headrest. _Goddammit_ , she knows just what to say. "No," he says, and his voice is choked. He bucks his hips up, his cock full hard now.

The tank only has thirty minutes in it, maybe forty-five.

Joe is very _bad_ at not going after what he wants.

His growl is stone-throated. Delight squeals as she's thrown again, this time by his hands and not by centripedal force. Joe doesn't throw her hard or far, just enough to lay her out on the long bench seat. He paws her wraps the rest of the way off, shoves his mask up, and dives into her cunt.

He's in an awkward position, twisted in the driver's seat, but he doesn't give a single solitary _fuck_ about that. He growls her out, noses and roots in her like a pig in truffles, slurping her and drinking her and slopping her down his chin. His Delight tastes, well, _delightful_.

She comes, and the wind carries the scream across the seam between redbrown sand and burning blue sky.

He slides the mask back down over his nose and mouth, licking her come from his lips and letting it wet the mask: a far better perfume than his own recycled breath. "Up, Delight, up, and on me. Now. Quickly." He slides his trousers down. His cock stands up out of its nest of silverwhite hair.

She sighs, her eyes far away and half-lidded, softly squirming on the seat. Begging him with arched back and dark hair fanned out like a halo on the seat and open legs for him to come to _her_.

"Delight. _Now_." He idly jerks his cock with one hand and pats his thigh with the other. _Come, girl_.

"Let's go outside. Oh _please_ , Daddy." Bars of sunlight cling tight to the curves of her brown-creamy skin, and he is jealous of them. How close they are to her. How well they warm her. She sits up and takes the oxygen tank, which lies docilely beside his leg. "There's plenty of play in the pipe," she purrs. "Take me outside. Take me _there_." She angles her chin at the hood of the Gigahorse. "Please, Daddy. I love you. I _need_ you."

Devotion like this lives in Kindest's eyes. The Twins smile at him like that; coquettish and wicked. But to see both in one woman, in one _wife_ , is a delight he hasn't encountered before. He knows she smiles even with the mask. He'd spent enough time smiling that same smile. The one that said _nobody knows as much as I do_.

He yanks the door open and climbs out, grabbing his Anaconda. Just in case. They're only five minutes from the Citadel, but the Buzzards he'd just beaten doubtless had friends, and they'd be _pissed_.

He'd slaughter them anyway if they came, dick in his wife or not.

Delight oils out of the door after him, a timid brown animal against the sand, and his hand darts out viper-quick. It catches her around the meat of her upper arm, and she makes a small noise he almost doesn't hear over his breathing and the desert's. He jams her against the Gigahorse's monstrous grille, pinning her between its chrome fangs and his bony ones, and hikes her up on his cock.

They both moan through their masks when he slides into her dripping cunt. He growls, drops the Anaconda onto the hood out of her reach but within his, and clamps both hands down on her hips. He pulls her down to meet his thrusts, but he doesn't need to. She wraps her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck and says his name in a sobbing gasp. The oxygen tank hits the sand with a metallic _thup_ that neither of them hear. The tube is at its limit.

"Give me a son, Delight, give me a son," he pants, his stone-sided voice frayed by exertion and mask.

"Yes, Daddy, yes, Joe, yes, _anything_ ," she keens, and the waves of her hair are blown by a wild squall. He pulls his mask up over his brow again and buries his face in her neck and sucks in the smell of her, of the Vault, of clean, pure air, of clean, pure woman.

Joe's world has spun down around his cock in her cunt, and there is nothing else. He curls his body around her, bent on fucking her, claiming her, _consuming_ her. He latches onto her neck, his mouth crusted with her half-dried come, and sucks warmth to the surface. She cries out and tightens her legs around him. His lips and teeth travel from skin to mask.

"Kiss me, Joe, please, kiss me, just _once_ , I'm... "

He pushes the mask up her face, just enough to expose her mouth, and mashes his lips to hers. She claws her hands through his hair and squeals into his mouth. Her cunt clenches around his cock and he shoves his tongue down her throat as he thrusts into her deep, _deep_ , three thrusts that bottom him out in her, and the orgasm tears through him.

He roars, his head curled against her shoulder, and the wind carries the sound across the boundary between the russet dunes and the sonic boom of sky.

Joe slips Delight's mask back down, making sure the straps are snug once more. Then he pulls his own mask down. They breathe, heaving carapace meeting trembling nipples at each inhale. He keeps them there a little while, keeps his softening cock in her as long as he can. He slides out and replaces his cock with a finger, swirling it in their combined slickness.

"Give me a son," he says.

The sun ricochets from her eyes. "Yes, Daddy," she says, and he slides his finger under the mask for her. She licks it clean.

He places her and the oxygen tank back into her seat, re-kits himself: trousers up, belt on, codpiece armed. The Gigahorse bellows.

The drive back is brief. She couldn't have taken more than three breaths of the desert air.  But the smell is all over her, the relentless salt and iron smell.

"You are my Delight. But you must bathe when we get home."


End file.
